Burns Like Bourbon
by Bleed Peroxide
Summary: There was nothing romantic or beautiful in this. “Making love” or “clouds and rain” were terms far too poetic, too sweet and tender. Even as logic screamed against it, his body language was a desperate and all-too-willing "yes". Jak/Erol. Details in A/N.


**A/N:** So, what's up with this fic? It was actually for a community I'm a member of on LiveJournal – the prompt was "Grinding", though I threw in a little of the "In Public" prompt too to make spice things up. The minute I saw "Grinding", it was almost inevitable that I'd want to write the fic for Jak and Erol. I figured I'd put in my own contribution to the Jak and Daxter fandom after… what, years of involvement? I'll be the first to admit that this is for a smut community, the focus is purely on the sex, not on it being romantic or full of complicated plot. That's for my other fics – for me, this was purely for fun. Hopefully you can enjoy it nevertheless! But anyhow, on with the story!

**Burns Like Bourbon  
****BGM: **"Basara" by Aural Vampire + "Taub-stumm-blind" by Eisbrecher

It was as though his body was tangled in the music pouring from the speakers, deliciously languid and slowing his mental processes to that of dripping honey. The lyrics washed over him like a foreign language, body swaying in time to a melody he was barely aware was existent. An hour, a day, eternity – time was meaningless and unreliable here.

His body felt strangely warm, as though lit by a roaring fireplace. However, the taste of liquor still clinging to his breath told him at once that it was merely the alcohol igniting his body heat. It was the booze loosening his inhibitions as a horribly familiar pair of hands, calloused and forceful, gripped against his slim hips as though he were their possession. He would have normally reached for the gun holster now absent from its usual location, trusting that his caution was never misplaced. As it were, instead he felt searing heat scorch below his navel and a shudder of pleasure, even as he knew perfectly well to whom these hands belonged.

"Irresponsible as always, Jak," a lightly accented voice purred in his ear, those rough hands pulling the teenager closer until his back was pressed against a well-muscled torso. Hot breath teased against the skin of his neck as the older man inhaled Jak's scent. As always, Erol was a veritable predator, sampling the bouquet of his prey before savoring it. However, what would have normally caused Jak to shove the man away drove him to tilt his head further to the side, an unspoken plea.

Hands wandered wantonly down the blonde's sides, tracing the subtle dip of his figure from waist to hips before settling just above his groin – never touching, never indecent, but just enough to leave both craving much more. Judging from his body's response, Jak knew that it wasn't a craving so much as a sick, desperate need.

"You poor little eco freak – even your body's impulses betray you," Erol snickered softly, nipping at the boy's ear before soothing it with light flicks of his tongue. Even as Jak abhorred himself for being so responsive to Erol's illicit advances, a rough sigh escape him before he could stop it.

"You know damn good and well it's only 'cause of the booze," Jak growled, biting back a moan as he felt a gloved hand slide between his legs, lightly cupping the region and stroking with just the right amount pressure. Goddammit, he would _not_ let Erol be in control. He squinted his eyes against the moan in his throat that longed to come out, knowing his eyes would betray him if Erol saw the haze of lust starting to cloud them.

He felt his body being forced to turn, opening his eyes just enough to see Erol glancing down at him with that fucking arrogant smirk of his. As much as they hated each other, there was no question that both were burning with mutual desire. No love, no romance, no gentle words – just a desperate need to mingle sweat and body heat, a need to pillage and to be completely and desperately conquered.

Grabbing Jak by the shoulders, Erol pulled the boy as closely as their bodies would allow. It was unsettling how perfectly Jak felt his slighter frame fit against his enemy's, how he was just the right height for the commander. Slim fingers threaded through his hair, yanking his head upward just as the other hand snaked around his torso to lock the boy in what could have been mistaken for an embrace. The rough press of Erol's mouth against slightly parted lips garnered Jak's attention immediately, tongue meeting warm muscle and a subtly peculiar taste in the other's mouth that only faintly sparked any curiosity. Lust clouded any logic he might have possessed; it drove him to deepen their kisses instead of cut them short. The increasingly ragged quality of Erol's quick breaths made Jak smirk with triumph – however much Erol gloated, the man was clearly no more stronger-willed than Jak.

Noticing this small show of cockiness, Erol's lips turned into an even wider smirk as he shoved his knee between Jak's legs, grinding his hips into the teenager's until he elicited a surprised gasp in response. With each forceful press of the commander's hips, Jak instinctively took minute steps backwards in an effort to make more room between them. He felt his back slam into a wall, and Erol murmured with a cocky grin, "It's a lot easier to just follow my orders, wouldn't you agree?"

Vehemently cursing himself in his mind, Jak could only reply with a barely-contained groan as he felt Erol slide his groin against his. Slowly, so agonizingly, deliciously fucking _slow – _desperately he mimicked the action until the two had reached a steady rhythm, surrendering any coherent thoughts as the beat of the music and pleasure flooding his body overtook his senses. For once, it was heaven to be a slave to sensation, not having to think but instead just bask in luxuria. Erol's lips lingered over his before trailing to the corner of his lips, his cheek, and the corner of his jaw as their kisses burned a path down his neck. Knowing what he was after, Jak tilted his head further to the side with a rasped sigh of both resignation and increasing desire.

He felt inquisitive lips lightly suck at the slightly saline skin of his neck, just as far more purposeful hands swiftly slid down the zipper of his pants. This unexpected touch roused Jak from the haze just enough to reach clumsily for Erol's hands. Slapping away Jak's fingers with an unconcerned laugh, Erol tugged down the boy's pants to just above his knees and earning a venomous glare in return.

"What the hell are you doing? We're in public!" Jak hissed, desperately trying gain back whatever decency he still possessed. It was bad enough he was panting over his bitter enemy and his body was definitely reacting to it – he'd be damned if he were to sink so low as having sex in a sleazy bar. But even as his pride forbade it, far stronger and baser urges in his gut were already driving away his more logical reasoning.

"Judging from body language, I'd say location doesn't matter too much to you, Jak," Erol teased quietly, his words almost purring as he resumed his earlier actions. Jak could feel the commander's tongue occasionally tasting along trembling flesh, knowing just the right amount of pressure and languidness to earn a throaty sigh in response. A rough hand twined through his hair once more as the other cupped between his legs, stroking with more force and purpose than before. Jak's breath hitched in his throat as his hips instinctively bucked into Erol's palm, desperately wanting more. He didn't have a coherent thought, no distinct emotions anymore… just a mantra, a ever-present plea of _oh god, more more __**more**__. _It didn't matter who's hand was pleasuring him as long as they didn't stop.

Jak gritted his teeth and managed to gasp out, "You can do better than that_._" Erol chuckled as he obliged, earning the first real moan in response – it was obvious Jak didn't give a damn where they were or who saw them anymore. Even when he slipped a wandering hand beneath the elastic of Jak's boxers, the boy only groaned and arched into these lascivious touches with a desperation Erol found irresistible- gods, he _loved_ being in control. Jak was usually a nightmare for any man who so much as looked at him the wrong way, but he was putty in the commander's hands. Testing the waters, Erol gingerly wrapped his fingers around the boy's arousal, waiting to hear a feral growl or feel claws sinking into his flesh.

Instead Jak shuddered at the contrast of cool fingers on searing skin, letting out breath in what sounded almost like a whine as Erol pumped his hand slowly along shaft. It was enough to make the poor boy crave more, but never enough to truly quell his lust.

"Stop jerking me _around, _you_ - _" Jak growled, freezing on a breath when slender fingers contracted as they made their progress, adding an entirely different level to Erol's ministrations. To his mortification, he actually whimpered with pleasure. Not a groan, a sigh – fucking _whimpering _like a dog begging for a treat to be thrown its way. _Oh my god, did I honestly just do that? How pathetic… _

"You make the most interesting sounds, Jak," Erol said serenely as he continued to pump rhythmically along the velvety flesh, a devious smirk twisting his lips at odds with the deceptive nonchalance in his tone. "I can never tell with you – do you prefer moaning or gasping? It was the same way with the eco treatments. It was a game, trying to guess if you would scream or just whimper the entire time."

Jak's eyes had already clenched shut against the waves of pleasure lapping over him, so the cruel words – typically the precursor to him turning into a pale-skinned, horned monster – only elicited a grimace of irritation before another groan cleanly wiped it away. He normally would _never l_et Erol talk to him like a piece of shit. Like hell he'd just let that slide. _B-but… not now, not isn't the time to get into some stupid fight over words,_ Jak mused dazedly. He knew somewhere in his gut that he should be murderously angry, and indeed, he felt a very weak flame of fury flare in him, as though seeing a light from miles away. But all his mind could think about was how unbelievably good it felt to be pleasured by those rough hands, with just the right amount of pressure and friction to leave him almost breathless with torturous delight.

He wasn't aware that the commander had moved an inch at all until he felt a familiar pair of lips press lightly against his inner thigh, sending a jolt through his entire body – he wasn't sure if it was more out of surprise or pleasure. Glancing down through hooded lids, he saw Erol on his knees before him, hands gripping his hips firmly and a considering glance in his eyes. There was nothing submissive in his stance, no hint of acquiescence or a desire to please. Erol merely met Jak's questioning eyes with a smirk, maintaining that almost hypnotic gaze as his tongue very lightly flicked the tender slits at the tip, waiting for the boy's reaction.

Jak bit back a gasp, trying to maintain a thin veneer of nonchalance. As vain as the effort was, his stubborn nature refused to give Erol the satisfaction of knowing just how desperately he wanted this; go ahead and let Erol believe he wasn't completely willing to just lean his head back and let the commander work him into oblivion.

Clucking his tongue in mock disapproval, Erol shook his head and said, "Stubborn to the end, Jak. I'm not blind, you know. As much as your mind says 'no', I'd say your reactions are a very strong" –he ran the tip of his tongue slowly down trembling flesh— "very _desperate_" – a experimental swirl around the head that yielded a thoughtless groan in response –"and all-too-willing'yes'." As Erol took the boy into the hot cavity of his mouth, Jak's resolve crumbled into dust as his fingers threaded into fiery red hair, urging –no, _begging _– the man to continue.

He'd imagined his first time experiencing such exquisite pleasure would be with a girl he loved – perhaps in a moonlit room that smelled like a woman's perfume, everything soft and quiet save for an occasional sigh or whisper. He had expected that it'd be tinged in romance, that it'd somehow be beautiful, elegant in its own way.

There was nothing romantic or beautiful in this. "Making love" or "clouds and rain" were terms far too poetic, too sweet and tender. It was carnal, almost animal – getting head from a man he hated in the secluded corner of a bar, the whole place smelling like cigarettes and stale liquor. He could still hear steadily throbbing music as though in a dream, the wet sound of Erol's expert ministrations and his own groans the only things he could focus on. Jak could feel Erol's head bobbing between his fingers, somehow intensifying every suckle, every stroke of his tongue. He tried to press himself even deeper into the redhead's mouth, but firm hands held his hips in place.

"Oh god… Erol, please..." Jak murmured thoughtlessly, words little more than the faintest of breaths. He was climbing higher and higher… muscles tightened, breath labored, body heat soaring. It felt as though he would break somehow – there was an almost unbearable edge to the white-hot pleasure searing through his body. Just a little more… just a bit more…

A low moan tore from his throat as he hit his peak, an almost divine white light flashing beneath his lids – he felt nothing, _was_ nothing but pure sensation. His tensed muscles relaxed at once, feeling a bit sore but, amidst the pure bliss flooding through him, it was inconsequential. He opened his eyes to see Erol make a subtle swallowing motion before getting up, looking for all the world as though he'd just won a race.

There was a stretch of what felt like eternity where Jak could only stare at Erol with… with some sort of sick fascination. He hated this man with every fiber of his being, and it was no secret that Erol would love nothing more than to see Jak dying in a puddle of his own blood. He felt like his mind should be screaming against everything he'd just done, that he should feel disgusting, violated or tainted.

But as he waiting for the guilt to set in, Jak slowly realized there was none. _Happy_ wasn't quite the word for it. To him, it was more like eating after enduring hours of hunger pangs – it didn't matter if he'd slowly enjoyed a delectable meal or just consumed junk food like a glutton. It had satisfied a quiet need at the most simplistic level, one he hadn't even been aware of until it'd been given attention. He could forgive himself for that, couldn't he?

Jak felt fingers thread through hair at the base of his neck, the action so sudden that he flinched even as his lips were claimed prisoner by Erol's – the action was rough and demanding, as the case was with about anything the redhead did. He could barely get accustomed to these demanding kisses, his head still swimming with post-orgasm contentment, before slick muscle slid along slowly along his lower lip.

The message had been perfectly articulated – he obliged and parted his lips further, a low moan forming in his throat. Tongues danced in a seemingly perfect harmony, neither of them caring as ardor overcame grace in their movement. Elegance, exquisiteness, tenderness? Both would have laughed at such a notion. Even as the hands cradling his cheeks holding his face could be interpreted as tender, Jak wasn't as easily fooled. He was being greedily claimed, the press of Erol's fingertips against his skin branding him as a possession.

But gods above… if that meant savoring the taste of him, to let time melt into the waves of ecstasy drowning him? Then fuck pride – he had already surrendered it when he took a swig of liquor, so he may as well drink up the benefits while he was still too intoxicated to give a damn.

Jak explored by taste and touch – there was such a peculiar flavor taste to these kisses than before, elusive yet familiar like the scent of a forgotten lover. Just a bit bitter, salty, almost musky… not delicious exactly, but not entirely unpleasant.

Erol snickered, the kind that made Jak's stomach drop. Whatever it was that amused him, it was almost assuredly at Jak's expense.

"You like what's in there?" Erol taunted, the condescending smile slowly forming on his lips. Jak couldn't think of how to respond to this – he hadn't enjoyed it so much as been intrigued by it. He _knew _he'd tasted that flavor before. What the hell was it?

Realization came slowly, and with that came dread spreading through his limbs like claws of ice, numbing him, rooting him to the spot.

_Oh… oh my god, was I just….? _

"…enjoying your own taste? It would seem that way," a voice said smugly, sounding oddly distant as Jak tried to unravel his increasingly tangled thoughts and ignore his body's immediate impulse to retch.

_Which means… earlier when he kissed me, was that…? _

As though from underwater, he faintly heard Erol's voice remark lightly, "Amusing as your reactions are, I'd much rather entertain myself in a more… well, predictable manner." The rhythmic sound of footsteps faded into the chatter and throbbing music of the bar, cerulean twins following with a dazed sort of curiosity as Erol idly strolled towards a petite woman dancing with one or two friends.

Jak didn't know whether he wanted to laugh bitterly or scream.

Both were terribly alluring options at the moment.

He'd just been a quick stop as Erol made his rounds around the bar, adding as many notches to his belt in one night as he could. Jak had obviously tasted the souvenir of Erol's last conquest, though Fate had surely laughed at him when the boy couldn't possibly place such a unique taste the first time he tasted it. He was a nightmare as a warrior, but as far as sex went? He might as well have been a wide-eyed teenager in Sandover, for all the knowledge he had on the subject.

Running a hand through green-blonde locks, Jak sighed with a potpourri of emotions – rage, shock, amusement, self-loathing, hatred in general, and a vague sense of disillusionment. He poured the last of the amber liquid down his throat, letting the slow burn of alcohol gradually numb his mind and limbs.

_How pathetic – a two foot-tall ottsel can hold his liquor better than I can. Daxter gets drunk and just tells tall tales. Me? I get drunk and wind up getting head in a bar._

Jak considered this with a humorless chuckle as he laid his change on the counter, giving the bartender a rare tip before escaping the smell of booze and cigarettes. Taking a much-needed breath of fresh air – well, as fresh as smog-laced air could be in Haven City – Jak found a wry smile forming despite himself.

_Hmmm… depending on who you ask, I'd probably be considered lucky in this case if I left out a few details…_


End file.
